Chapter Four: Battle Trial
Bakugou came at him like a rocket. His speed was unreal – Izuku had never seen him fight seriously before, and despite knowing how powerful he was, experiencing it was another matter. He barely dove to the side as Bakugou pulverized the space he had been. The sparks from his palms burned ashes along the wall.
"Go!" Izuku shouted to Ochako. "Forget about me! I'll deal with him here! Remember the plan!"
She hesitated, worry visible even behind the tinted glass of her helmet. But she ran up the stairs. Bakugou, as expected, didn't even look behind him. That perpetual smirk was on his face as he cracked his knuckles.
"You piss me off. How did a weakling like you manage to beat me in the entrance exam? And then I learn you've been hiding a Quirk all this time. Are you making fun of me?"
Izuku forced down the fear. Victory was not about strength – it was about strategy. He did not have to beat Bakugou here, just stall him long enough for Ochako to get into position – assuming, of course, Iida didn't overpower her immediately. The plan was the best he could come up with on short notice. The two of them made the worst possible pairing. The ideal pair would be a combat and a support, or, failing that, two combat types. Izuku and Ochako were both supports. Bakugou or Iida alone could likely take on them both at once. On top of that, the hero team was at a disadvantage.
The world was unfair. UA certainly shoved that philosophy down its students' throats.
"My Quirk manifested late. I was never making fun of you. I consider you my friend."
"You? My friend? You're not worthy to lick my shoes."
He charged forward once again. Izuku ran. The hallway was choked and narrow with little room to maneuver, and stray explosions continually showered him with shrapnel. He turned the corner just as Bakugou collided with the wall, the impact obliterating it completely. Sunlight peeked through the hole. Bakugou paused. A small, round thing had rolled near his feet.
The explosion knocked him into the air. Anyone else would've been incapacitated immediately, but at the last minute, Bakugou had used his own explosion to cancel out the force of the grenade. Ungracefully, he landed on his back with a howl of pain. Snarling, he stood up.
"You've picked up some new tricks. It won't save you."
Nervously, Izuku fingered the grenades along his belt. Three left. The first-year allowance for support items was limited. Mei had made it clear he owed her several favors. Bakugou's greatest strength lay not in his Quirk but in his reflexes, his instinct, his cunning. That surprise attack had been Izuku's best chance to take him out. Now that he knew what was coming, it would be impossible to get him again. Not with this, at least.
Ochako's voice buzzed on the earpiece; Iida and the bomb were directly above them.
"Wait for my signal," he whispered.
The plan was coming together. Even if Bakugou beat him bloody, they would win.
Bakugou advanced slowly. He was limping, Izuku saw with satisfaction. But he was also on his guard. That alone was a victory. To have Bakugou scared! What a wild dream only a year ago.
"A Quirkless loser suddenly develops a Quirk. Awfully convenient, isn't it?"
Izuku's blood chilled.
Bakugou sneered. "You don't have a Quirk at all."
"It manifested late. It's not as uncommon as you think."
"And it just so happens to be a Quirk that nobody can verify, right? You tell us you can slow down time or some bullshit, but you're the only one who knows that. Do you think I'm stupid? You made the whole thing up. It's a wonder the other idiots haven't caught on yet. But after I crush you, I'm going to tell everyone in the class. You're going to wish Aizawa had expelled you."
"Deku?" Ochako's voice said. "Are you ready?"
"I'm going to need some time," he said quietly.
It was inevitable, Izuku reflected. From the moment he saw Bakugou in the same class, he knew this would occur. Where did it all go wrong? They had been friends. They had hunted for insects in the same forest, skipped stones across the same pond, watched the same shows and worshipped the same heroes. It would be easy to place all the blame on Bakugou, but the vassal who bowed under tyranny bore as much blame as the tyrant. Izuku had been weak, and not because he lacked a Quirk. When Bakugou made fun of him, he smiled. When Bakugou beat him up, he ran. When Bakugou ignored him, he had been relieved.
Izuku clutched his shamefully beating heart through his uniform. The mask his mother had lovingly crafted was torn in half. His uniform, too, was tattered. Burns snaked along his bare arms. It would be easy to run away. It was always easy to run away.
"Nitroglycerin," Izuku said. "It produces a well-contained explosion that can be used in all sorts of ways. The idea for my grenades was based on you. I've always admired you."
Bakugou's face contorted into a rictus of hate – why? Probably he was also scared of the answer. He exploded forward, scorching black the floor beneath his flight. Izuku tossed another grenade, but Bakugou easily blasted it away. The explosion rained dust and concrete. Izuku prepared himself for another right hook, but Bakugou jumped over him, changing direction in midair, using the momentum for a roundhouse kick at his exposed back. Izuku barely managed to block it, but even with metal-reinforced gauntlets, the impact pounded him into the wall. He gasped. Something in his back cracked. It took him two tries to pick himself up. Haltingly, he drew out another grenade.
"A copy will never stand up to the original," Bakugou said. "That thing's like a matchstick to my sun."
Izuku threw.
Bakugou cursed. His hand lashed out. Two explosions. The first was Bakugou's, knocking it aside. The second was soundless and heatless, a flash of light so bright that Izuku saw the afterimages even behind closed eyes.
"What the hell did you do?" Bakugou screamed, clawing at his eyes. "I'm going to kill you!"
Each opponent had two blind spots: the first when they didn't see the attack coming, and the second when they're used to seeing the same attack coming. Izuku's ribs hurt with every breath, but he managed to avoid Bakugou's wild explosions long enough to wind the capture tape around him. The effects of the flashbang wore off quickly. Bakugou's eyes burned, raw and red, and, staring back, Izuku marveled that they had ever been friends.
"You're dead," Bakugou said, struggling against the capture tape, and the cold restraint in his voice was more terrifying than all his heat. The tape, given to both teams, was a poor imitation of Aizawa's; already he was breaking free.
"Bakugou, you've been captured," Aizawa's voice called over the loudspeaker. "Any further actions will automatically result in your forfeit."
He howled in frustration. For a second Izuku thought he would ignore what Aizawa said and pummel him into the ground, consequences be damned. But although Bakugou was a bomb thrown down a volcano on a star going supernova, the core of him had always been conscious of restraint. He knew how best to tiptoe the line that allowed him to rage free without reparation from adults.
Izuku bent down and whispered into his ear:
"A Quirkless boy beat you. Explain that to everyone."
This time he did break free, snapping the tape in a whirlwind of fire. But it was too late. Izuku threw his last grenade directly upwards, jumping back just in time as the ceiling crashed down around them. Briefly, he glimpsed Iida falling, and somehow Iida's surprise was evident even under that mechanical armor. The jets on his legs roared, but without solid ground beneath his feet, he went nowhere. And then he, along with Bakugou, was buried beneath the rubble. The bomb – a paper-mache rocket. Was that what they had endeavored so hard for? – also crashed through the ceiling, but Ochako managed to touch it just before it hit the floor. They made a comical sight, rocket-and-girl floating in mid-air.
"Bomb secured," Aizawa's voice called. "The hero team wins."
